The Devil Doesn't Wear Prada
by Katherine Elaine
Summary: While Dean lacks the passion for fashion that Lucifer seems to hold, he seems overly caught up in the 'chick flick' he's watching, cuddled up with Satan himself. M for sexual references but not acts.


"I mean, I really don't get what she's wearing!"

Dean rolled his eyes as Lucifer continued blurting out his confusion into the hunter's ear. It'd been an hour or so now and all Lucifer had expressed on his opinions of _The Devil Wears Prada_ was his extreme distaste for the clothes put on display by the models and characters.

"Really, Dean-o, wouldn't she look better in something a little more, neutral?" Lucifer frowned at the outrageous green dress the assistant had been wearing in the film.

"I think she'd look better naked in my sheets," Dean muttered, trying hard to ignore Lucifer's comments and focus on the screen in front of them. Their bodies stretched lengthwise across a small sofa, laying on their sides. The Devil's chest pressed tightly to Dean's back, and the hunter could feel the chuckle erupt from the man behind him.

"Well, you go hunt 'er down, sport. Lemme know how that works out for you, huh?"

Dean shook his head. "Nah, I'm pretty comfy here, honestly." He hooked his foot around Lucifer's shin, weaving his own through the small gap. Lucifer allowed the force happily, and draped an arm around Dean's middle. The oldest Winchester brother sighed contently, squirming closer into the shape of Lucifer's body. Knees bending, Lucifer forced Dean's to move with him and nuzzled the hunter's neck with gentle kisses.

"Do you think I'd look pretty in a green dress, Dean?"

The hunter burst into laughter, turning onto his back to stare upward at the Devil. "I think you look amazing exactly as you are," he answered truthfully. "Peeling skin, ripped jeans and all. I mean, you'd look better pushed up against my shower wall, I think, but—"

"Care to test the theory?"

"Oh, hell no. I'm watching the movie, you sick puppy. Or trying to, at least."

"Why? So you can get ideas for what to dress me up in for our roleplaying session later tonight?"

Dean only smirked. "No. Now shut up, or I'll dress you up like this and force you into LARPing." He pressed a forceful kiss to Lucifer's lips to silence him.

"Only if you promise to take it off right after. Contrary to popular belief, the Devil does_ not_ wear Prada," Satan mumbled against the hunter's lips, earning another quiet chuckle before they both turned back to the TV. "Didn't take you for a redhead kind of guy, I gotta say."

"I'm more of a let's-trap-the-Devil-into-a-chick-flick-and-cuddles kind of guy. And if you don't stop talking, I'll be forced to get out the ball gag."

Lucifer let out a low whistle. "Wanky." He wiggled his eyebrows, which Dean could only see out the corner of his eye, but said nothing to; only smiling.

"Hey, Luci?"

"Mm?"

Dean spoke softly. "You think maybe someday we'll have a happy ending like Andy and Nate?"

Lucifer returned the smile that had snaked its way onto Dean's lips. "You'd have to ask your pal Chuck," he answered. "But I think anything's possible. I mean, apparently stopping the apocalypse is a perfectly okay plan with my Dad, so I think it could be done."

"I'm still upset about that, you know." Dean's eyes darted to the ceiling, laying on his back again.

"About…?"

"Having to stop it. Having to send you back." _Having to be here without you._ "We still haven't talked about what happens if Sam finds out." Dean reached for the Morning Star's hand, finding the cold temperature oddly soothing.

Inhaling deeply, Lucifer planted a kiss on the other's forehead, surprised yet pleased that the hunter held some kind of concern for him. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Is it too much to ask to just be happy here, now, with you?"

"Guess not," Dean agreed with a shrug, feeling Lucifer's fingers tighten around his own, his grasp strong.

"One more question."

Dean rolled his eyes once again. "You've got to stop this. What now?"

The Devil smirked, eyes flashing with a hint of something wicked. "Which of us gets the leather suit and whip tonight?"

"Oh, you'll get the whip," Dean chuckled darkly. "Just not in your hands." His eyebrow quirked suggestively upward, causing Lucifer to groan with anticipation.

"You're mean."

"You have no idea. _Yet._"


End file.
